Skullduggery {sapphic thriller}

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Anxiety rippled through me. She hadn't grabbed her gun from the nightstand. I sprung up from the bed and went to the door to crack it ajar.

"You can't just let yourself in." I heard Desirae say, sounding more annoyed than anything.

I breathed a soft sigh of relief. Some baby-faced white dude in a button up and dress pants walked in with one of those big envelopes and then leaned against her couch, grumbling about paperwork or something. She clearly knew him, worked with him, likely.

"You didn't answer your phone."

"Because I already told you last night," Desirae replied, her firm tone unwavering. "It's signed. Drop it."

"You haven't submitted anything yet, just tear it up. I have someone better anyway and you know they won't give the deal to both of them," he argued. As Colonel Mustard slinked past, he reached down to try to pet him, but the cat hissed. He jerked his hand back. "You owe me."

"And you owe me the forensics report."

The guy gave her a slick grin before holding out the envelope. As she went to grab it, he tugged her into his arms and slid his hands around her ass. My stomach lurched as I reeled back, waiting for her to push him away.

But she didn't.

Her hands fumbled with the envelope, eyes glued to the packet once it was free. She finally slithered out of his hold, but turned back to him as she flipped through the pages. "I was right."

Before I could stop to think, my feet were moving down the hall.

The guy's face dropped when he saw me. "You have got to be kidding me."

Desirae whipped around, her lips pressed to a taut line. "Kirby."

"I uh, was just gonna go grab some breakfast from Dom's," I thumbed over my shoulder, thinking quick, "Des, you want?"

"Des?" he repeated. His eyes looked ready to fall out of his head. "What is she doing here? Tell me she did not stay with you last night."

"What was I supposed to do, Greg?" Desirae shot back, but her eyes bored into me. "She was hurt."

"She's not some stray dog, Desirae. She's an international criminal wanted for questioning in over a dozen stolen art and forgery cases and she's walking out of your bedroom, wearing your fucking sweatshirt."

I'm not sure what I expected, but this wasn't it.

"They would've killed her."

"Not our problem."

"I was totally gonna share my pastries with you," I said to him, but he refused to even look at me now. "But you're on your own."

"She is my problem," Desirae redirected, still staring at me. "Because she's under contract."

"Show me. Show me she signed or I'm arresting her right now."

My feet began to inch towards the door as Desirae gave me a regretful look before turning down the hall to her bedroom. Whatever I supposedly signed last night, she apparently didn't actually want me to. In retrospect, I guess she'd tried to warn me about the U.S. building a case against me.

"A little bird told me Pino is coming home early," Greg said in my direction, but he still wouldn't look at me. "He's not too happy you're back in town."

He clearly was trying to scare me, but it was a little late for that. "I uh, didn't wanna say anything in front of Des," I whispered, finally getting him to look my way. "But bro, you've got a big ol' bat hanging from the batcave."

"Wow." He shook his head with a sneering laugh. "You're exactly as they described. I give you a week before you're back behind bars."

He continued to laugh snidely to himself as Desirae came back down the hall. Her eyes flicked between us, trying to figure out what she missed.

Greg snatched the papers from her, briefly looking them over. "I'm sure Agent Udekwu went over everything this doesn't cover?"

"She was very thorough," I replied.

"And she explained what will happen when you inevitably fuck up?"

"Like I said, very thorough." I stole a glance at Desirae, but her solemn expression hadn't changed. "As she is with everything she does."

"I'll make sure the DA gets this," he said, staring towards the door. "You can go now."

"Great. Thanks. I'm so glad I have your permission." Slipping on a pair of Desirae's sneakers, I didn't bother to look back at her before leaving.

I didn't know what I was feeling or what I should be feeling. Angry. Betrayed. Jealous? And for what? It was my own fault. I knew better. I jammed the button for the elevator, but decided not to wait for it. Jogging down the steps, my body protested every floor until finally I was in front of the sliding glass doors. They opened automatically, releasing me into the crisp morning air. My stomach growled, but I ignored it. I had other shit I needed to deal with. Instead of heading up the high street to Dom's, I rounded the apartment building back towards the museum.

Rafael's rusted pickup still sat along the curb where we'd parked last night. I knew he wouldn't have driven anywhere since he was pretty tanked at the opening, but I thought maybe he would have picked it up by now. Then again, I had no idea what time it actually was. My phone was likely in a box at the police station, booked with Cal.

I opened the door to the truck and sunk into the cracked leather seat.

It would only be a matter of time before Pino learned I was now some contracted, FBI snitch. I really needed to talk to Rafael. I was ready to get comfortable and wait him out in the truck when I caught the blue of Artie's evil eye charm staring at me from the passenger's visor. It was like she was trying to send me a sign.

As I pulled it down from the visor, the keys to Pitruzza along with a spare for the truck dangled from its chain. With a whispered thank you, I inhaled as deep as my bruised ribs would allow before sliding the key into the ignition. The engine turned over with a sputtering cough and I pulled onto the side street, heading towards the marina.